"I pray your royal highness to pardon me; I have, doubtless, shocked you by speaking of this wretched creature, but her repentance seemed so sincere that I ventured to plead for her."
"You were quite right. Pray continue," said Fleur-de-Marie, subduing her emotion. "Every fault is worthy of pity when followed by repentance."
"After two years passed in this wretched mode of existence she repented sincerely, and came back to Gerolstein. She chanced to lodge in the house of a good and pious widow; encouraged by her kindness, the poor creature told her all her sad story, adding that she bitterly regretted the faults of her early life, and that all she desired was to enter some religious house, where by prayer and penitence she might atone for her sins. She is only eighteen, very beautiful, and possesses a considerable sum of money, which she wishes to bestow on the convent she enters."
"I undertake to provide for her," said Fleur-de-Marie; "since she repents, she is worthy of compassion; her remorse must be more bitter in proportion as it is sincere."
"I hear the grand duke," said the lady in waiting, without remarking Fleur-de-Marie's agitation; and, as she spoke, Rodolph entered, holding a large bouquet of roses in his hand.
At the sight of the prince the countess retired, and scarcely had she left the apartment than Fleur-de-Marie threw herself into her father's arms, and leant her head on his shoulder.
"Good morning, love," said Rodolph, pressing her to his heart. "See what beautiful roses; I never saw finer ones." And the prince made a slight motion as if to disengage himself from her and look at her, when, seeing her weeping, he threw down the bouquet, and, taking her hands, cried:
"You are weeping! What is the matter?"
"Nothing, dear father," said Fleur-de-Marie, striving to smile.
"My child," replied Rodolph, "you are concealing something from me; tell me, I entreat you, what thus distresses you. Never mind the bouquet."